the widow
by Broken Elsewhere
Summary: Like the burnt-out remains of forever, and the shimmering lights of the place that we call home. Kiba/Hinata/Naruto


**disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.  
><strong>dedication: <strong>To Denise, who made me write this and who loves Kibahina and shonen-ai too much. I hope you're happy.

**note: **I tried to write fluff. Uh, well, I don't quite think it came out fluffy. But at least its not disturbing and angsty.  
><strong>note2: <strong>I'm pretty neutral towards Kibahina, I just like Naruhina more.  
><strong>note3: <strong>Post-canon.

.

.

.

Hinata spent her days dancing around Kiba's shadow.

She followed him, faithfully, or maybe it was the other way around. In the dying light, on top of the Hokage Monument, they were barely alive. Hinata curled tighter into her jacket and could have cried.

"D-Do you e-ever wish you n-never cared for them?" she asked him.

"Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?" he growled and shrugged. "I don't know."

The last funeral had been two days. She hadn't cried as much then. Each death seemed to rip something out of her like a fishhook, and there was less and less left behind to hurt. Akamaru nuzzled into her thigh and Hinata buried her face into his warm, soft fur.

At least he wasn't dead.

_I thought I saw Sasuke-kun today except Sasuke-kun is dead just like Sai-kun and Shino-kun yes they're all dead they don't come back from the dead – _

She struggled not to cry.

It was quiet and Hinata shivered in the cold wind like arms reaching out and dragging her downwards. The world was lit in bloody gold red. It spilt over white fur and onto purple cloth.

Kiba tried to smile at her, except it wasn't _his _smile. She wondered if Kiba was making things worse.

(He wasn't making it better.

Shadows didn't do things like _better_.

And Hinata had learnt long ago that strength wasn't something she could rely on others for.)

So they sat together, a slip of a girl and a shadow of a boy, watching the sun sink below the horizon. Light fell like acid on her skin and Hinata wondered why the world didn't just go dark when the sun was gone.

And how instead, the sky was painted fuchsia and lavender and robin-egg blue and other too-bright colors.

"W-What now?" she whispered.

She wondered if he would leave.

She wondered if after everything, he would leave. She wasn't really saddened by it, because if she could, she would do the same. Konoha was too dead without Ino-chan and Gai-sensei and Tsunade-sama and…

Hinata was so tired.

And she was going to be tired for the rest of her life. Hinata looked at Sakura and a hard emotion curled up inside her, almost like jealousy, as though she envied the bonds that tied Sakura to the grave.

(She didn't want to contemplate what Sakura was going through now.)

_There's no one left anymore because they're all dead except Kiba-kun but Kiba-kun might as well be dead you might as well all be dead because –_

She would have given anything to sleep but the only person (shadow – Kiba wasn't really person, he was empty, with half of him buried with Tsume and Hana and it was sad but at least he was _there_) to sleep on was Kiba.

And Hinata didn't know if Kiba would appreciate the gesture anymore.

Now all that was left to appreciate was nightmares.

Hinata had them, too.

She didn't want to see them, not anymore, but sometimes she just couldn't help herself, and it was too-bright smiles and lightning and so many, many faces and a little girl with white-eyes that could have been her innocence that danced around her nighttime visions.

Except they were dead, she told herself. Thoughts flowed like water in her head.

_He's not coming back because he's dead because Kiba-kun said so and Kiba-kun wouldn't lie because he's __**Kiba-kun**__ yes you're being silly he's not coming –_

It was never Kiba though.

She glanced at him through her dark bangs.

Her shadow.

She used to have sunshine and flowers and grizzly bears.

All she had was a shadow now.

Sort of.

He glanced at her and tilted his head, curious. Hinata moved a little closer. He curled his fingers through hers. Hinata ignored the gooseflesh that broke out on her arms and for a moment, they could only look at each other. Grief was a comfortable friend.

Akamaru placed his head in her lap and Kiba chuckled. He was Kiba and he was reliable and he was good and sometimes he made her heart hurt in almost the same as _he _had.

But it was a little different.

Hinata smiled, just a little, at him, her cheeks faintly rosy. She didn't say anything: she tipped her head just a little and motioned at the sunset.

Kiba nodded.

He understood.

(Sometimes she just needed someone.)

They sat there until the sky looked like it was bleeding red.

"W-why doesn't it just go dark when the s-sun goes down? W-why is there even c-color?" she babbled, "I d-don't g-get it. I n-never get it."

She heard Kiba's grunt next to her, a thin-fang-toothed not-smile.

Maybe he didn't get it either.

Maybe no one got it.

(And isn't that just sad?)

"M-maybe I s-should g-go," she stuttered and pushed herself to her feet.

The sound of reconstruction was loud in her ears – louder than the silence and Kiba's lack of response. Anything was louder than that. Everything was louder than that.

It should have hurt.

It didn't.

_Blue, blue eyes like the color of the sky and whisker marks and bright, bright orange and laughter and black against yellow streaking down, down, down –_

Akamaru barked. Hinata couldn't breathe over the sound of hammers and failure in her ears and rushed to the edge of the monument. Kiba was forgotten in the sudden onset of memories.

She took in great gulps of bruising cold air.

Konoha glittered below her. The endless sea of shimmering lights that she called home sang of regret and falling in love with all the wrong people.

And Kiba was right next to her.

And then Kiba was looking at her, with those brown, brown eyes of her and Hinata couldn't breathe, because who could _breathe _when Inuzuka Kiba was staring at them with that sharp face with red fang-marks? It was instinct, when a predator was hunting you, to stay still, in hopes that they were stupid enough to forget you were even there.

But Kiba wasn't stupid, and even a shadow of him was smarter than anyone had any right to be.

There were two inches between their hands and Kiba reached forward and grabbed hers. Hinata felt calluses and sadness and was that heartache?

(Couldn't be. She was just imagining things again.)

"W-What are you d-doing?" she murmured.

_Lightning and screaming and that awful, awful screeching of birds and bloody skies and streaking down, forever down, until –_

"Making you stay," he said and he smiled at her, that wonderful, wonderful smile of his and Hinata nearly broke down right then and there.

(It wasn't fair to Kiba. But then it had never been fair to Kiba.)

She didn't move.

_Streaking down and down until –_

And maybe she would never move.

_Down, until –_

Maybe they would sit in the dying light together, trying to stop all the ghosts that still haunted them both. Maybe she would always look up at the sun and wonder. Maybe they would always be broken and awful and twisted together, and maybe they would never be okay.

_Until –_

But somehow, that was alright.

_**- crash. **_

She buried her face into his shoulder and breathed in the scent of leather. Hinata curled into Kiba's jacket and slept.

.

.

.

**note4: **Shut up, I tried to make the end sweet. I could have made it horrible tragic. (Addressed to the person who made me write this)  
><strong>note5: <strong>Interpret this as you wish.  
><strong>note6: <strong>Please review. (And from YOU, I want a thank you.)


End file.
